Mind your step, Gallagher, he warned himself. “Good morning, Mary Kate. I was forgetting the hotel is full of O’Tooles just now.”

She had to untangle her tongue. His eyes were so clear in this light. If she looked into them deeply enough, she could see herself reflected back. It was so alluring.

“You should come in out of the wind. I’ve a break now, I’ll buy you some tea.”

“That’s a kind offer, but I’m on my way to see Old Maude. I was just watching Tim Riley pull in his nets, and they looked heavy with fish. I’ll have to go about bargaining with him later for some of his catch.”

“Why don’t you stop by on your way back?” She tilted her head, running a hand through her hair and looking up at him under her lashes in a look she’d practiced endlessly. “I can take my lunch most anytime.”

“Ah . . .” She had more skill in flirtation than he’d given her credit for. It was just a little frightening. “I’m due at the pub before long.”

“I’d love to be able to sit and talk with you.” She laid a hand on his arm. “When there’s not so much going on.”

“Well, that’s a thought, isn’t it? I’ve got to be going. You should go inside. You shouldn’t be standing out here in that thin blouse. You’ll catch a chill. My best to your family.”

As he made his escape, Mary Kate sighed. He’d noticed the blouse.

He’d handled that well, Shawn congratulated himself. Friendly, a sort of older brother to younger sister kind of thing. He was sure the little crisis had passed. And it was really rather sweet that she’d thought of him the way she had. A man had to be flattered, especially since he’d slipped through those sticky loops with no harm done.

But deciding a bit of backup wouldn’t be out of order, he dipped into Saint Declan’s Well and sprinkled the water on the ground.

“Superstitious? A modern-thinking man?”

Shawn’s head came up, and his eyes met the clever blue ones of Carrick, prince of the faeries. “A modernthinking man knows there’s a reason for superstitions, especially when he stands and finds himself having a conversation with the likes of you.”

Since he’d come for a purpose, Shawn walked away from the well and over to Maude’s grave. “So, tell me, are you always here and about? I’ve come to this spot all my life, and it’s only recently I’ve seen you.”

“There was no particular reason for you to see me before recently. I’ve a question for you, Shawn Gallagher, and I’m hoping you’ll be answering it.”

“Well, you have to ask it first.”

“So I will.” Carrick sat by the grave across from Shawn so their eyes were level. “What the bleeding, blistering hell are you waiting for?”

Shawn raised his eyebrows, rested his hands on his knees. “All manner of things.”

“Oh, that’s typical of you.” Disgust edged Carrick’s voice. “I’m speaking of Mary Brenna O’Toole, and why you haven’t taken her to your bed.”